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GAGA GAZETTEER

This one made me weepy this morning. Girl finds out her bestfriend and roommate -- a 160-lb English Mastiff has terminal bone cancer and only has a few months to live. So armed with a bucket list of adventures she would like to share with her dog, they go off on canoe rides, road trips, visits to both busy spots and quiet spaces and, finally, spend a last day together by the ocean in Maine, where she finally finds peace and acceptance. This is real love, people.

I still keep a journal despite having a blog. No matter how spill-all-my-guts-out open I may seem, there are many things I do and think that I'll just never tell. I've always thought it kept me sane to be able to express myself without fear of being censored or criticized. Whenever I pick up an old journal, even one from my 13-year-old self I realize that as much as I've changed so much is still the same. I just know how to dodge bullets faster and better. From: HUFFPOST Healthy Living, 01/20/15

Which is why I've decided to keep this blog around, at least for a little while longer. I've always picked up a pen (or sat in front of a keyboard) any time I needed to make sense of my world; writing allows me to get into my head and get all my thoughts out without having to worry about how ridiculous I sound (that's where the editing comes in). From: The New York Times, 01/19/15

HOW TO BECOME A WRITERThis was lovely. The post is by a novelist who was asked how to encourage a young writer. It sounds eerily like the story of my life -- now all I need is to keep reading and keep writing (and, okay, start submitting). From: M Molly Backes' blog, 07/12/11

Every day at work I see all kinds of female bodies: athletic, boyish, curvy, voluptuous, natural, enhanced, preteen, post-baby, postmenopausal -- thousands of different bodies I've seen up close and personal in my lifetime. This infographic shows that the description of the ideal female body changes every decade or so, going back hundreds of years. I hope that soon we define the "perfect" body as one that is simply healthy and functioning; that what matters is that we're comfortable in our own skin. From: Greatist, 01/15/15

May 14, 2013

MOTHER

I phoned my mother to greet her for Mother's Day. She no longer speaks; she grunts, no doubt because she's highly sedated from the pain medication. My sister S, who sat by her side, asked her gently, "Mom, are you listening? You're not talking again."

This is a difficult post to write, simply because I struggle with the tears that seem to be stronger than I am these days. I try not to cry, afraid that if I do I won't stop, that I'll break down completely. Instead I cry when I watch videos of cute animals who are unlikely best friends, I cry when one of The Voice contestants has a "moment." I cry when good and bad things happen to other people, even when they're only characters in a movie or television sitcom. My tears are like little earthquakes that appear unexpectedly and often, if only to ease the pressure building up from The Big One that threatens to blow.

My mother is a force of nature herself. She's never been one to follow societal conventions although she's keenly, painfully aware of them. As I've gotten older I've discovered the push-and-pull dynamic that frequently tore at her from the inside, the kind that has also characterized the kind of relationship I've had with her my entire life. She's never been the nurturing kind of parent who held me close, who said she missed me when I was gone or uttered "I love you" at the end of every phone conversation. Yet she gave me everything she had. She would give me more if she still could.

In one of mom's final email messages to me from late last year, she was filled with regret. She said she was aware that she wasn't the kind of warm, nurturing mother I probably would have wanted, but that was only because she didn't know how to be that person, that her own mother wasn't that way with her either. She wondered if working so hard alienated her from her children, and if sending me so far away for college was the right thing to do because we were now so far apart.

My mother's words broke my heart, even if I already knew what they were before she said them. Mom and I have had sporadic conversations like this before. She once confided to me that she probably would have been better off had she never married so that she could have traveled more and had the kind of adventures she could only dream of. Then she paused, looked at me, and said, "But of course then I wouldn't have had all of you. I don't regret my children." Push and pull indeed.

Mom didn't have to explain her words; I understood that her generation of women didn't have the choices mine do, and that even today we still have to deal with the consequences of those we do have. My mother wanted a career, she wanted a family. About a decade ago she was eased out of the last position she held, perhaps because of her age, and she wondered about the costs of everything.

My mother recently told my best friend that I am strong. If I am, it's only because she was, too. Everything she did in her life helped make me who I am, and I thank her for it. When people talk about a mother's sacrifices, we don't ever know half of it, I'm certain.

With my mother's ear to the phone I told her I loved her and I thanked her for everything she's ever done for me. I didn't mention that it wasn't just for the food on the table or the house I grew up in, the good schools I attended or all the opportunities I was ever given. I'm grateful that I had a mother who was her own person. She taught me, through her example, that becoming what other people think we should be is the worst betrayal of ourselves -- despite the costs. She never gave in, even now as she is slowly giving up on life itself. And what a life it has been. Hers, completely.

As my mother lies on her bed, often asleep, I lay awake trying not to cry over her. I fight with my tears as hard as mom and I once fought. In the end, I will make peace with them as I have with her. In the meantime here's what I wish my mother knew: I wish she knew that whenever things get really rough, whenever I don't know if I'm as tough as what I need to deal with, the first thing I think of -- the first thing that has always come to mind and that always will -- is that I wish my mother was here with me.

Comments

Hello Gigi,

This is definitely a touching story. I too have a close relationship with my mother. I consider my mother my best friend and just recently found it important to seize every moment I can to say I love you. I cannot imagine where my life would be without the support of my mother. I truly hope the best for you and your mother during this tough moment.